Pride & Proposals
by grangerdanger
Summary: What if, after rejecting Mr. Collins, Elizabeth found herself very much in need of a husband? What if that husband was Mr. Darcy? AU, Regency, and forced marriage. Oh, how I do love angst.
1. Chapter 1

"Elizabeth," Kitty whispered into her older sister's ear. "Mr. Darcy is staring at you. Again." Kitty giggled and turned to Lydia who giggled even more loudly and sent both of the younger girls into a fit.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, was not amused. As she peered down the large dinner table past the many guests at Netherfield hall however, she saw that her sister's claim had, in fact, been true.

Mr. Darcy was staring at her very intently indeed.

"I wish he would stop doing that," Elizabeth said, turning away from the intensity of Mr. Darcy's gaze to the much friendlier one of her older sister. "Why is it that a man I so thoroughly disgust feels the need to stare so. If I am correct in his sentiments, which I'm quite sure I am, than his behavior is downright masochistic."

Jane laughed quietly, sneaking a gaze in Mr. Darcy's direction. "Indeed sister, maybe you are quite incorrect. That is not the sort of stare one would expect from an enemy."

Elizabeth only shook her head, desperate to change the subject. She stole another glance in Mr. Darcy's direction and noticed another set of eyes, staring quite intently also. "Nor, I would imagine," she continued to Jane. "Is Mr. Bingley's. While the motives behind Mr. Darcy's glances may be a mystery there can be no doubting Bingley's reason for staring." Jane blushed a deep shade of red and turned back to her dinner, and Elizabeth was glad to have ended their discussion of Mr. Darcy. Indeed, it was rare that Elizabeth had a Darcy-free moment at all.

Since their meeting at the assembly hall Darcy had managed to worm his way into Elizabeth Bennett's life. And, much to Elizabeth's dismay, it was not entirely unpleasant. Though Darcy was, of course, a proud and arrogant man there was something about him that drew Elizabeth. Indeed, even after quitting Netherfield upon Jane's recovery Darcy had been a constant fixture in Elizabeth's thoughts. So much so that –

"Miss Bennett," a deep voice called from above Elizabeth, interrupting her revelry. "Miss Bennett?" it asked again. Elizabeth looked up from her meal only to see the very object of her thoughts addressing her.

"Y-yes," she flustered. "I'm sorry Mr. Darcy, I was quite engrossed in my dinner."

"So I noticed," Mr. Darcy responded, his color rising slightly. Perhaps he'd realized that his stares had not gone unnoticed. "And did you enjoy it?" Again his color rose. "Your meal I mean."

Elizabeth was put off by Mr. Darcy's awkwardness but she answered him with a pointed look. "It was certainly adequate," she replied.

Mr. Darcy's awkwardness faded immediately, replaced by a radiating defensiveness. "Only adequate Miss Bennett?" He asked.

"Indeed," She replied. "Surely you agree with me. The company you were surrounded by must have made the meal utterly unappetizing for you."

"On the contrary Miss Bennett," Mr. Darcy responded. "My dinnermates were nothing but pleasant. I am quite thankful however that we did not converse during dinner, as such a conversation as this one would certainly have spoiled my appetite.

Elizabeth stared at him, shocked by his retort.

"Excuse me," he said bowing and walking back towards his seat near the head of the table.

"Well," cried Jane, looking beseechingly at her sister. "That was quite a scandalous response."

Elizabeth nodded angrily. "What a hateful man," she said cutting rather forcefully into her meal.

Soon after another voice sounded from above her. "My dear cousin," crooned Mr. Collins. "You do handle your cutlery quite violently. Pray tell, is your meat too tough?"

Elizabeth could barely keep from rolling her eyes. "Not at all Mr. Collins. It is not my venison that is the object of my violence and alas my poor meal has become a victim of my emotions." She smiled at him politely.

"It would be silly to expect anything different from a woman as passionate as yourself cousin. Though, to be sure, such excessive emotion can be unbecoming to a Lady. Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself has often explained the importance of docility in any woman.

"Has she?" Elizabeth asked, already disinterested.

"Indeed. In fact cousin, you may soon meet Lady De Bourgh and discuss it with her yourself."

"Is that so?" Elizabeth asked, again more out of politeness than real interest.

"Perhaps. In fact that leads me to exactly what I intended to discuss with you tonight, dear cousin." Mr. Collins extended his hand toward Elizabeth. "Would you care to take a turn with me about the grounds; our conversation will require some privacy."

Elizabeth was nervous now. "Surely cousin what you have to say can be heard by all. And if not it simply would not be proper to walk the grounds as a pair. We'd have to be joined by a group and our privacy would be sacrificed regardless. Indeed Mr. Collins if it cannot be said now than pray, save it until the morning."

"I am afraid that may sentiments cannot wait. Besides, finding apt and discretionary company should not be difficult in a gathering of so many young people. Mr. Darcy, in fact," Mr. Collin's called so Mr. Darcy could hear his address. "I am told in quite fond of walking. Sir will you be so willing as to give my dear cousin and me the honor of your company as we tour the grounds?"

Elizabeth was not sure what she expected Mr. Darcy's response to be, but it was certainly not his curt yes. "The weather is quite agreeable tonight."

Elizabeth sat opened-mouthed and staring at Mr. Darcy and so it fell to Jane to invite herself. "A walk does sound quite pleasant," she offered. "Might I join you?"

"Why of course," Mr. Collins exclaimed. "We will make quite the merry party I think." Again he offered his hand to Elizabeth. "Shall we cousin?"

Not knowing what else to do, Elizabeth accepted his hand and together the four of them exited the dining hall for the grounds.


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Collins' voice was the only conversation for the first few minutes of the unlikely group's tour, his hand firmly clamped to Elizabeth's arm. Jane and Mr. Darcy also walked with their arms intertwined but, despite Jane's best efforts, conversation was rare. Mr. Darcy instead seemed particularly engrossed in Mr. Collin's remarks on the "quality of the shrubbery" and how it compared to Rosings Park. This went unnoticed by Elizabeth, who was considerably more concerned about the motives behind her cousin's impromptu walk.

"Cousin," Mr. Collins said, interrupting Elizabeth's thoughts. "There is a bench to our left I'd like very much to inspect. Would you mind joining me?"

"It is a fine looking bench," Elizabeth said hesitantly, shooting a look behind her towards her sister as she and Mr. Collins began walking in that direction. Mr. Darcy and Jane followed close behind them until Mr. Collins said, "The bench's partner seems to be just across the path. Perhaps you'd like to inspect it Mr. Darcy? Than the four of us can compare the details afterward."

Mr. Darcy ignored his suggestion, closely watching Elizabeth. Instead, Jane spoke. "Mr. Collins," she began, locking eyes with Elizabeth.

"I think that would be a splendid idea," Mr. Collins insisted and, with no valid reason to protest his suggestion, Jane and Mr. Darcy began to walk away. As they left, Elizabeth believed she saw regret in both of their eyes.

"The carvings are quite intricate. Do you see cousin?" Mr. Collins asked.

Elizabeth was desperate to finish the "inspection" as quickly as possible and so answered, "Yes, quite."

"I have such an appreciation for small beauties like this one. The details in the carving that make it," and Mr. Collins was no longer looking at the bench, "one of a kind."

"Indeed Mr. Collins," Elizabeth quickly responded, ignoring his heated glance. "When Mr. Darcy and my sister return to us I'm sure they will reveal that the bench across the path is quite its twin. We ought to return to them now so we may-" but Elizabeth stopped cold. Mr. Collins was now stroking her cheek.

"Oh cousin," he said. "Your beauty is obstructed when you move your mouth so. Do not play coy. Surely you know it was your beauty I spoke of."

"I was not aware Mr. Collins that you considered me to have intricate carvings. If it is so surely they can be better inspected inside where it is light." Elizabeth was now pulling away from Collins and moving towards the house.

"Oh your humor cousin; it is only one of the many reasons I know you shall make a fantastic wife."

"Mr. Collins!" Elizabeth exclaimed, drawing the attention of Jane and Mr. Darcy. "I don't think – "

"As you know," Mr. Collins continued, again ignoring Elizabeth. "I will inherit your house upon the unfortunate event of your father's death. I am also of a respectable profession with an especially gracious patroness. I cannot imagine there is any objection to my character. I certainly have few with yours and they can be easily repaired."

"Surely such a flawed character should be reason to find a more suitable wife, Mr. Collins," Elizabeth pleaded. "For I simply cannot see us married."

Mr. Collins only looked at her, confused. By this time, Mr. Darcy and Jane had joined them at the bench. "Cousin, you are of course aware that it is unlikely you will ever receive another offer. I am asking you to be my wife – surely you are not rejecting me."

"On the contrary Mr. Collins: I thank you for the honor you have paid me in your proposal but I am quite sure you could not make me happy and that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so."

"Miss Bennet I'm confused. Despite the advantageous position our marriage would place you and your family in, you chose to reject it. Are you saying no? Keep in mind I shall not ask again."

"Indeed Mr. Collins," Elizabeth answered. "I would prefer you did not." That said, Elizabeth curtsied quickly and ran into the darkness, leaving an open-mouthed Mr. Collins behind her.

……………………………………………….

She found herself, quite a few minutes later, at the edge of a small pond near the back of the house. Around her, trees as tall as the house itself stood silently, reflected by the pond's glassy surface. Where she stood, Elizabeth was completely isolated and so she was surprised to hear footsteps approaching behind her. Assuming it was Jane, Elizabeth turned quickly. "I won't apologize for it Jane. I could not marry him. He's the –" but it was not her sister standing behind her. Instead Mr. Darcy walked tentatively toward her, finally standing next to her at the pond's edge. Elizabeth hardly knew what to say. "I'm sure you consider me quite improper," she said, watching his face. "A woman in my position rejecting a proposal must be preposterous to you."

Mr. Darcy looked out over the pond. "I doubt my opinion of the engagement would change yours," he said. "Though I do wonder why you rejected him. He may be a silly man, but he was right in what he said: without him you'll be destitute upon your father's death." It was said very matter-of-factly but Elizabeth imagined her reasoning was also very matter-of-fact.

"I did not love him, Mr. Darcy," she said simply. "And I cannot marry without love."

For a moment Mr. Darcy locked eyes with her. His gaze was curious, intrigued, and, though Lizzy would believe the darkness was playing tricks later, even a little tender. "Are you such a hopeless idealist, Miss Bennett?"

Lizzy smiled. "Rather a hopeless romantic, Mr. Darcy."

They stood that way, Lizzy smiling at Mr. Darcy, only a few inches apart, for quite some time and Elizabeth began to think that perhaps Mr. Darcy was not so arrogant after all. Perhaps he was not so intolerable or so hateful. Perhaps her initial prejudice was incorrect. She opened her mouth to say something, but Mr. Darcy began speaking first.

"Hopeless, certainly," he said turning away from her. Elizabeth only shook her head: she should have known better.

"It is late Mr. Darcy," she observed eventually. "And I would hate to keep you from dancing. I know you enjoy it so."

Mr. Darcy looked at her quizzically as if unsure of what to make of her but offered his arm. "Perhaps we should both return Miss Bennett." Elizabeth accepted his arm, and together they began walking back towards the house.


	3. Chapter 3

As Lizzie and Mr. Darcy approached Netherfield they saw a large group gathered in the front. At first, they heard only mutters but as they drew closer the voices and faces of those attending the ball became more distinct. The entire Bennet family was at the gathering's center– The entire family, except Mr. Bennet.

"Oh Lizzie," cried Jane upon seeing her sister. Lizzie quickly delinked arms with Mr. Darcy and ran, unconcerned with propriety, toward her sister.

"What's happened?" She asked. "Where's papa?"

Mrs. Bennet was wailing in the distance. "My poor husband," she howled. "Five daughters and he's left us! He's left us!"

Lizzie balked. "What does she mean Jane? What's happened?" Lizzie felt a presence at her side. Mr. Darcy stood next to her looking genuinely concerned.

"He fell." Jane said through tears. "Papa fell in the ballroom. Mr. Bingley called for a physician but Papa won't open his eyes and the physician isn't here yet. Lizzie, I'm so afraid." The two sisters embraced but Lizzie wanted nothing more than to see her father.

Mr. Darcy continued to stand next to the pair awkwardly. To Lizzie it appeared almost as if he, too, wanted to embrace her but instead he stepped backwards and swept away. "_Good riddance,_" she thought. "Where is papa, Jane?" Jane grasped Lizzie's hand and, bypassing an inconsolable Mrs. Bennet, two militia-men comforting Kitty and Lydia, and a silent, near-catatonic Mary, Elizabeth and Jane hurried into Netherfield and up the grand house's staircase.

Mr. Bennet was lying silent and still on a four-poster bed in one Netherfield's many bedrooms. He was pale and barely breathing and the sight of him brought Lizzie to tears. "Oh papa!" She exclaimed, hurling herself onto the bed next to him. She only lay there a few seconds however, before the bedroom door burst open again. Lizzie heard, rather than saw, a slew of men dash hurriedly to her father's bedside. One man wore a formidable mustache and carried an important looking leather bag. He began to examine her father.

"Miss, you should leave," he said calmly but assertively. Lizzie stared at him and refused to let go of her father's hand. "Miss Bennet-" He tried again.

"What's wrong with him?" Lizzie interrupted breathlessly. "What's happened?"

"Miss Bennet you really must leave. I'll inform your family of any –"

"Can someone please just tell me what's wrong?" Lizzie was openly sobbing now, staring around the room for answers. "Just tell me what's happened to him! Please, can someone just tell me?" She saw Mr. Bingley looking concerned in the room's corner, shooting desperate looks at Jane. Other men from the ball filled the room, but none of them would look at her, much less answer her question. "Will he be alright?" Lizzie whispered, burying her head the bed's cover.

"Lizzie, let's go." Jane pleaded tearfully. She attempted to lift her sister off the bed but Lizzie clung even more fiercely. "Lizzie!" She cried, and though Elizabeth could not see it, Jane turned to someone behind her and stared desperately.

Suddenly, Elizabeth felt a set of large, solid hands on her shoulders. "Ms. Bennet," whispered the familiar voice of Mr. Darcy. "We must go." His voice was soft and tender, free of its usual pride and coldness and Lizzie was so taken aback by it that she loosened her grip on her father's arm. Before she had a chance to regroup, Mr. Darcy swept Elizabeth up in his arms and swiftly removed her from Mr. Bennet's side.

At first, Mr. Darcy's embrace was surprisingly comforting. Outside of the bedroom door, Elizabeth inadvertently curled into him and threw her arms around his neck. She sobbed deeply into Mr. Darcy's chest as he stroked her hair tenderly. "Shhh," he whispered into her ear. Lizzie pulled her face away from his chest and stared deeply into Mr. Darcy's eyes. Her hand cupped his check and as she examined Mr. Darcy's kind expression Lizzie was suddenly and unexpectedly overcome with an intense feeling of rage.

"Put me down," she said forcefully, pushing against Mr. Darcy's chest. "Put me down at once. How dare you! How dare you!" Mr. Darcy's face morphed from a look of tenderness into one of surprise before finally his face mirrored Lizzie's own look of anger.

"Fine!" He screamed, unapologetically plopping Lizzie onto a bench in the hallway. He stood over her, fuming, his hands clenched at his side. He looked ready to attack, but Lizzie had her own emotion to vent. As Mr. Darcy turned back toward the bedroom door, Lizzie rose and pushed Mr. Darcy with all her strength.

"You brute!" She screamed, disappointed that all her force had barely moved Darcy. "He's my father. I have a right to be with him!"

Mr. Darcy turned back toward Elizabeth so quickly it frightened her. "Perhaps you do, Ms. Bennet," He growled through a clenched jaw. "You do not, however, have the right to disrupt a medical examination." He was walking toward her and Elizabeth felt the back of her knees hit the bench she'd sat on seconds before. "Unless of course, you're more concerned with your own wellbeing than your father's."

Elizabeth's mouth fell open and she dropped onto the bench as if deflated. Mr. Darcy's face seemed to flash regret, but before he could say anything the bedroom door flew open. "Ms. Bennet," said the man with the mustache, "please come in."

Elizabeth glared up at Mr. Darcy before rising and heading towards the now-open bedroom door. As she entered the bedroom Lizzie thought only two things. The first was that she hoped desperately her father was alright. The second was that she never wanted to see Mr. Darcy again.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: This chapter's not heavy on the Darcy-Lizzie relationship but I have to move the plot along somehow. Sorry! To make up for it I think I might finish/post another chapter (with yummy Darcy and Lizzie moments) tonight! Yeah!_

…..

Lizzie was snuggled cozily in the corner of Netherfield's library. It had been a week since her father's accident and Mr. Bingley had graciously permitted the Bennets to stay on at Netherfield until Mr. Bennet was healthy enough to travel. While Elizabeth strongly expected this act of kindness had more to do with her eldest sister than it did her ailing father, she was so grateful for Mr. Bennet's recovery that she never complained. That was not to say, however, that she did not have reason to.

Netherfield, once foreign and grand, was quickly becoming a prison of its own, due largely to its guests. Secluded in their own home with no one but each other to bother, Kitty, Lydia, Mary, and Mrs. Bennet were perfectly…tolerable. Ironically however, when surrounded by polite company (or any company at all, for that matter) their worst traits seemed to surface. Mary spent the day following Caroline Bingley and complaining incessantly. Normally, Elizabeth would be proud of a sister that so thoroughly annoyed a woman like Caroline and normally Caroline would be pleased to have such a judgmental companion. However, Mary seemed to be absorbing Caroline's particular brand of snobbery and Caroline never tired of thinly veiled insults to Mary, leaving Elizabeth less than pleased with their new relationship.

Kitty and Lydia, on the other hand, never failed to fawn over the grandeur and beauty of Netherfield. "Aren't these curtains the finest things you've ever seen?" Lydia would giggle to Kitty, well within earshot of the house's permanent tenants.

"They're alright, I suppose." Kitty would respond. "Perhaps a little too plain. One day, when I'm settled, I'll have curtains far finer." Mr. Bingley was always perfectly polite, agreeing that the curtains needed to be replaced, but this never dulled the sting of embarrassment Elizabeth felt every time her younger sisters commented on the carpets or the cutlery.

Mrs. Bennet's behavior was a horrifying mix of Mary's, Kitty's, and Lydia's, with a dash of hysteria over her dying husband thrown in for good measure. Elizabeth may have been more sympathetic if her mother spent more time with her father and less time agonizing over her daughters' lack of husbands. "He will leave us destitute!" She'd sigh over lunch. "And we will never be able to afford such fine food."

Jane – who was as steadfastly kind as she'd ever been – was Lizzie's only solace. Even her attention was limited, though, by the presence of Mr. Bingley. Now, for example, Jane and Mr. Bingley were chatting in the drawing room with the rest of the house. Elizabeth had tolerated the idle chit-chat as long as she could before she slipped out to check on her father.

As Lizzie approached her father's temporary bedroom the door flew open. Expecting to see one of her sisters or even one of Netherfield's many servants, Lizzie was shocked when she came face-to-face with Mr. Darcy. "Ms. Bennet," he said curtly.

"Mr. Darcy," she responded. The two had not exchanged more than these basic greetings since the night her father collapsed. The chill between the two was entirely intentional, as Lizzie seemed to run into Mr. Darcy around Netherfield more often than anyone else. Nonetheless, she maintained her promise to herself to avoid him as much as possible. "Excuse me," Lizzie said as she attempted to pass Darcy. Before she could she could get very far, however, Darcy grasped her upper-arm.

"He's not awake," Darcy said, looking down at Lizzie.

Lizzie vaguely considered slapping him before deciding against it and instead asking, "What were you doing in his room?"

Darcy hesitated, looking genuinely nervous. "I was…checking up on him."

"Why?" Lizzie asked, and she noticed Mr. Darcy was still holding onto her arm.

"I –" Mr. Darcy started, but both he and Lizzie were quickly distracted by a noise coming from Netherfield's entryway.

"I have come to call on my beloved cousins who are certainly in peril of both the emotional and financial persuasion," came a voice from the floor below them.

…..

Darcy, the Bingleys, and the Bennets, save the ill Mr. Bennet, were gathered in the drawing room around Mr. Collins who was sharing yet another story about Lady Katharine. "She has regularly observed what a perfectly adequate husband I shall make," Mr. Collins said, locking eyes with Lizzie. "It is, after all, the duty of a Clergyman to engage in the intercourse of matrimony." Lydia and Kitty broke into giggles while Jane shot Lizzie a concerned look.

Lizzie opened her mouth, prepared to diffuse the awkward situation, when she was interrupted by Mr. Darcy. "And is that why you're here, Mr. Collins?"

"Matrimony?" Collins responded.

"Intercourse," Darcy said flatly.

This time the entire group giggled at Mr. Collin's faux pas, except Lizzie, who was closely the examining the angry expression Mr. Darcy wore. Again, she opened her mouth to speak but this time Mr. Collins interrupted her. "In a manner of speaking, I suppose." Again, Collins locked eyes with Lizzie, completely missing the joke (and the fact that it was at his expense). "Might my cousin and I have the room?" He asked Mrs. Bennet.

"Why of course!" She exclaimed. "Of course, of course. You two shall have absolute privacy." It seemed only then that she remembered she was not in her own home. "That is, if Mr. Bingley doesn't mind." Bingley, to his credit, seemed to search for an excuse not to leave the couple alone but he, like so many before him, was ultimately defeated by Mrs. Bennet's enthusiasm. "Excellent!" She cried, shooing everyone but Collins and Lizzie from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Lizzie, of course, knew what was coming and this time, before she could be interrupted, she spoke. "Mr. Collins," she said softly. "If you plan to repeat the question you asked me a week ago you must know my answer remains unchanged." She looked at him pointedly. "I will not marry you."

Collins seemed to legitimately absorb what Lizzie said before responding. "But cousin, what choice do you have?"

"The same amount of choice I had the last time you asked Mr. Collins," Lizzie responded.

Collins was grinning now. Insidiously. "No, dear cousin. I'm afraid that's where you're wrong. You see your illusions of choice are very romantic – very romantic indeed. But as Lady Katherine so aptly observes romance belongs in books, not marriages. You see, Ms. Bennet, your father is very ill and upon the tragic and likely timely event of his death you and your sisters will be left destitute. Poor. Alone. Abandoned." Collins smile seemed to widen on this thought. "Only I, who will inherit the estate, will be able to save you. Of course, I imagine I would be far more willing to rescue your family from a life of destitution were I more _intimately _involved."

Lizzie's mouth hung open in shock. Not only were Collins' claims about her family's financial situation a complete surprise but his audacity in so frankly discussing a marriage as a business transaction left Lizzie disturbed. "Mr. Collins," she said when she had finally recovered from her shock. "I would not marry you for love and I certainly will not marry you for money. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"No worries cousin," Mr. Collins called after her as Lizzie marched toward the drawing room doors. "I will wait here for you to change your mind."

Lizzie was so frustrated and angry that she pushed open the room's doors with all her might, only to find the four female Bennets, Caroline Bingley, and Mr. Darcy listening on the other side. "Oh good heavens!" Lizzie screamed, passing the group and running up the stairs towards her father. She couldn't help but notice the look of anger on her mother's face, self-righteous glee on Caroline's, and something almost sad on Mr. Darcy's.

"Papa!" Lizzie called as she burst through the bedroom door. "Oh Papa, what's happening?"

Mr. Bennet was sitting up in the bed and motioned for Lizzie to join him. "My dear Lizzie," he said feebly. "What's wrong?"

"Oh papa," Lizzie sobbed into his chest. "Mr. Collins has proposed! Again!"

"Again?" Mr. Bennet laughed. "I knew the man could not understand subtleties but really…"

"But Papa he says I must marry him!"

Mr. Bennet puffed up as much as he could and looked Lizzie squarely in the face. "Lizzie, there is no one you _must _marry. Your happiness is what's most important."

"But Papa, he told me there's no money, that if something happens to you we'll be homeless, penniless, and…and alone!" Lizzie sobbed these final words out. "Papa what will we do without you?"

Mr. Bennet suddenly looked very weak. "My Lizzie, I wish I had done more for all of you and I'm afraid Mr. Collins is very right. Without a male heir there is nothing I can leave to you. There is nothing I can do for you Lizzie." Mr. Bennet was crying now, too. "Oh Lizzie I am so, so sorry."

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened and Mr. Collins appeared at the foot of the bed. "Mr. Bennet, Ms. Bennet," he said awkwardly, doing something between a bow and a curtsy. "Mr. Bennet, I have come to ask for your daughter's hand and, given your imminent death, I can't imagine it will be denied."

"Mr. Collins!" Lizzie yelled, horrified by what he said.

"Lady Katharine regularly observes what an adequate husband I will make," Mr. Collins continued, unfazed. "And Lizzie would be quite lucky to be the mistress of such a fine rectory."

Mr. Bennet suddenly looked very pale. His breathing quickened and he grabbed his chest.

"Mr. Collins you must stop!" Lizzie pleaded. "You're making him worse!"

Mr. Collins only grew louder. "Cousin, I warned you of this. You should accept me now to ensure your and your sisters' futures. When your father dies," and Mr. Collins looked pointedly to the increasingly ill-looking Mr. Bennet. " You and your family will have nothing. Nothing at –" but Mr. Collins final thought was interrupted when Mr. Darcy's fist connected with his jaw.

"That's quite enough," Mr. Darcy said, admiring Collins' unconscious body on the bedroom floor. "Call for a physician immediately," he called to one of the house's servants. "And when our guest awakens please tell him his welcome is worn out."

"Lizzie," Jane said, pulling Lizzie off the bed. "Let's go."

And that's how Lizzie ended up in Netherfield's sizable library. She was consumed with worry about her father but also with worry about her family's future. She knew, now more than ever, that she could not marry Mr. Collins. He'd nearly killed her father and he was, among other things, a complete ass. That did not change the fact that one of her sisters, herself included, would have to marry. Of course, there was the possibility that her father would fully recover and all the Bennets would be able to take their time finding husbands. But what – and she could barely think it – if he did not?

Lizzie always said she would marry for love and she wasn't the ideal candidate to track down a husband that would save her family, either. She was headstrong, outspoken, and impatient. Jane was on the cusp of an engagement and Kitty and Lydia would inevitably fall for the first man that made an offer. But while Lizzie did not want this burden, but she couldn't possibly allow any of her sisters to carry it either.

Of course, absent Mr. Collins no one had made Lizzie an offer. So there was the difficult challenge of finding a – "Ms. Bennet," Darcy said, suddenly appearing in the library's doorframe staring intently at Elizabeth.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: This chapter has sexiness. You have been warned. _

"Mr. Darcy," Lizzie answered with surprise. "Is it my father? Is he alright?"

"Yes. Yes of course," Darcy responded. He seemed off put by her question, as if he wasn't expecting it.

"Oh. Good," Lizzie said. She expected Darcy to leave now that he'd informed her of her father's condition but he lingered by the door.

"And you?" He asked. "You're…alright?"

Lizzie tried to remember a single time Darcy had inquired about her well-being and came up blank. "I suppose," she said, still confused.

"Of course," said Darcy. "As well as can be expected given what's happened." He bounded across the library toward the shelves so he was only a few feet from Lizzie. "I'm sorry. For what's happened – I'm sorry." His words were rushed. Lizzie could tell he wasn't accustomed to apologies, even if it wasn't for his own behavior. "The doctor's here, with your father," he continued.

"Good." Lizzie smiled uncomfortably. "Thank you." Mr. Darcy didn't say anything. He stood awkwardly by the shelves staring at his feet. "Has the doctor –" Lizzie started, but Darcy interrupted her.

"You can't marry him," he said simply.

Lizzie's eyebrows raised. "The doctor?"

"Collins," said Darcy. He still wasn't looking at Lizzie.

"I don't know that's any of your business," Lizzie said. "In fact I'm –" but again, Mr. Darcy interrupted her.

"I know you must marry. One of you at least. Your younger sisters will never find a suitable match. Not one that's capable of caring for your entire family. And your sister Jane – once she discovers your situation she will have to end her courtship with Mr. Bingley. Even the appearance of marrying for money would be too much for her."

"But it wouldn't be for me?" Lizzie asked. She was angry but she remained planted in her armchair, fingers wrapped around the arms in rage.

"You are…practical," Mr. Darcy said. "And I think you'll make a practical wife."

"Wife?" Lizzie gasped. "Are, are you proposing?"

"Very practical," Darcy continued still scanning the spines of books rather than looking at Lizzie. "It's one of the things I find so interesting about you."

"Interesting?" Lizzie asked, finally propelling herself from her armchair and away from Mr. Darcy. "Are you looking for a wife or a collector's piece?"

Mr. Darcy's face darkened and finally turned toward Lizzie. "I've just proposed to you. And given your situation, station, and family it's unlikely you'll receive a better offer."

"Did Mr. Collins advise you in your proposal?" Elizabeth asked. "You seem to share his particular charm."

"Ms. Bennet," Darcy said coolly, walking across the library and toward Elizabeth. "My motivations for, as you put it, collecting you should be unimportant. Your sister's happiness, your very livelihood depend on your future and," Mr. Darcy now had Elizabeth backed into a bookshelf. "Your future is most secure with me." Darcy's body was inches from Elizabeth. She could feel the heat wafting from him as something fluttered at the bottom of her stomach. Darcy cupped Elizabeth's chin and pushed his body flush against hers. "Say you'll marry me."

Elizabeth breathed in sharply. She had never been this close to a man before and the pressure of his body against her was not entirely unpleasant. She did not love him, but as Mr. Darcy stared deeply into her eyes, his body moving slightly against her, Elizabeth did feel something. "Say you'll marry me," Mr. Darcy said again. His face was now so close to Lizzie that if she'd moved at all their lips would touch. Mr. Darcy grasped her arms softly, bringing Elizabeth even closer. Without touching her, Darcy moved his mouth across Lizzie's cheek and toward her ear. "Please," and his voice was strained, almost desperate. "Say you'll marry me."

Lizzie opened her mouth, prepared to reject him, when she felt something hard and new pushing against her lower body. She gasped and, almost unconsciously, pressed herself even harder against Mr. Darcy. Her movement elicited a groan from Darcy as he buried his head in the crook of her neck. He was breathing heavily. Lizzie felt his lips pucker against her shoulder as he responded to her sudden movement with a thrust of his own. Lizzie began panting and leaned her head back against the bookshelves. "Say you'll marry me," Darcy said breathily. "Please," he whispered as he kissed his way up her neck and toward her ear. "Say it."

Lizzie felt his mouth close around her earlobe, his teeth tenderly grazing it and, without planning to, she relaxed into his embrace and breathed, "yes." Her exclamation was so quiet that Lizzie barely heard it herself, but she felt Darcy stiffen and tighten his grip on her arms. At first he did not move his mouth from Lizzie's neck and the two stood unmoving, Lizzie confused but desperate for more contact.

After a few moments of agonizing stillness, Lizzie felt Darcy sigh into her before pulling his head away and staring into Lizzie's eyes. Slowly, he released one of Lizzie's arms and brushed the hair from her face, cupping her cheek. He looked as if he was searching for something in her expression and Lizzie knew all he would find was desire and confusion. With his other hand Darcy stroked Lizzie's arm and the embrace was so gentle it drew a shaky breath from Elizabeth.

This sound seemed to shake Darcy from his stupor. His face became unreadable and he pushed himself away from Elizabeth, reestablishing a healthy distance between the two of them. He didn't look at her. "I'll make the arrangements," he said quietly, before exiting the library and leaving Lizzie alone and wanting.


	7. Chapter 7

Lizzie awoke the next morning to the sound of her door flying open as her eldest sister propelled herself onto the large four-poster bed in Lizzie's temporary Netherfield bedroom.

"Lizzie!" Jane exclaimed as she landed at her sister's feet. "Lizzie wake up!"

Lizzie groaned, turning over and burying her head in one of her feather pillows. "What is it?" she asked groggily.

"Mr. Darcy has been to see Papa."

Suddenly, memories of the library and the feeling of Mr. Darcy pressed against her flooded Lizzie's mind – the pressure of his lips against her neck, his arms bracing her against him, his question.

"He's asked Papa for your hand," Jane said breathily. "What on earth is going on Lizzie?"

Lizzie remained buried in her down comforter and soft pillows for a few seconds, contemplating how she could explain any of this to Jane, before rising slowly and kicking her feet over the side of the bed. "He wants to marry me, Jane," she told her sister without looking at her.

"Really?" Jane asked in uncharacteristic sarcasm. "Even though he just asked our sickly father to give you away, I had no idea of his true intentions."

Lizzie finally looked at her sister disapprovingly. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you sister," she said flatly.

"And dishonesty does not suit you," Jane responded. "What happened?"

Lizzie briefly considered recounting the events of the night before to her sister but decided against it. "He asked to marry me last night," Lizzie offered instead.

Jane looked incredulous. "And you said yes?"

Lizzie rose from her bed and walked towards the closet. "It's a good match Jane," she explained.

"It's a miserable match! You hate him!" Jane looked legitimately concerned. "Lizzie you don't have to choose between Collins and Darcy. There will be other men. And no one expects to marry Darcy for his money or power –"

Lizzie interrupted, angrily. "We're poor, Jane! We're poor and our father is ill and a man more than capable of taking care of our entire family has made me an offer." Lizzie's rage diminished slightly and she looked at the floor, almost ashamed of herself. "There won't be another man like that."

"Lizzie," Jane said, concern permeating her voice. She looked like she was prepared to say something but stopped at the sight of her sister's defeated posture. "Papa wants to see you," she whispered.

"Fine," Lizzie replied as she walked into her closet and closed the door behind her.

….

Lizzie's conversation with her father was incredibly similar to the one the she'd had with Jane. She couldn't explain why she was marrying Darcy because she wasn't sure herself. Yes, he was arrogant and rude and controlling and Lizzie did not love him. She knew that very clearly. But when Lizzie thought about Darcy and that night in the library something swelled inside of her and she could not imagine a world in which she would never be able to be that close to Darcy again. Lizzie was practical though – desire was not a good enough reason to marry someone. The things Darcy said about her future, her family's future, and most importantly Jane's future were entirely true. Lizzie could marry to protect that and she could justify the marriage much better that way, than based on how she felt when Mr. Darcy hardened against her.

Lizzie's mind was wrapped in these thoughts when, as she left her father's sickbed, she collided with Mr. Darcy in the hallway outside the bedroom door. Elizabeth was, understandably, distracted and as she exited her father's bedroom she walked directly into Darcy's arms. Darcy was equally surprised by the collision, and he wrapped his hands around Lizzie's shoulders, pulling her back as if to check who'd just exited his future-father-in-law's bed chamber. The two stared at each other, their faces only inches apart, their bodies still in full contact. Lizzie inhaled sharply and then exhaled her fiancé's name. "Mr. Darcy," she breathed.

"Ms. Bennet," he responded.

Lizzie stared into Darcy's eyes and she watched as his expression softened almost imperceptibly before letting her gaze wander down to his mouth. All she could think of was the night before in the library. She was desperate for more contact Darcy and terrified he'd stop this exchange like he'd stopped the one last night. Lizzie noticed her hands were pressed against Darcy's chest and she could feel the hardness of his muscle through the jacket he wore. Cautiously, Lizzie ran her right hand up Mr. Darcy's torso. She felt the hard line of his collarbone and the sinewy muscles of his shoulder as she wrapped her hand around the back of Mr. Darcy's neck. She was still wantonly staring at his mouth, but she felt Darcy's grip on her shoulder's tighten as he pulled her closer and heard his sharp intake of breath. The hardness she'd felt against her lower body in the library had returned but Lizzie was now less confused and more intrigued.

Out of curiosity more than anything else, Lizzie watched Darcy's face as she softly dragged her fingers across the back of his neck, just below his hairline, and drew circles with her fingertips. Darcy sighed and closed his eyes as his hands journeyed away from Lizzie's shoulders and towards her hips. He wrapped one of his arms around Lizzie's lower back, trapping her against him. With the other hand he squeezed her hip, bringing her even closer. The new contact made Lizzie light headed and it was her turn to sigh into Mr. Darcy. As she inhaled she raised her face toward Darcy's, desperate for a kiss without knowing it, and Darcy lowered his face toward hers.

He rested his forehead against Lizzie's, eyes still closed, reveling in the feeling of her fingers at the nape of his neck. "Lizzie," he said desperately, trying to muster all the strength he had left. Lizzie vaguely noticed that it was the first time he'd called her anything other than Ms. Bennet. "Lizzie," he asked breathily. "Have you ever been kissed before?"

Suddenly, Lizzie was nervous. She was standing in a hallway, panting against a man who'd had her pressed against a wall the night before, but the thought of a kiss seemed even more intimate. "Lizzie?" Darcy asked again.

"No," she said timidly and the fear in her voice seemed to awaken Darcy from his trance. He sighed, lifted his head, and loosed his grip on Lizzie, though their bodies continued to touch. He brought one of his hands up to her face and cupped her cheek. Again, he stared deeply into Lizzie's eyes, but this time his expression was warmer and less intense than the one he'd warn in the library.

"Did you speak to your father?" Darcy asked, running his thumb under Lizzie's lower lip.

"Yes," Lizzie responded airily.

"Have you changed your mind?" The question wasn't accusatory or angry or suspicious. In fact, Lizzie got the sense that if she'd said yes Darcy would nod politely, disentangle himself, and walk away without comment. This made Lizzie's answer even more determined.

Lizzie inhaled deeply, straightening herself as much as she could, and returned Darcy's gaze. "No," she said pointedly and she was surprised when she saw Darcy smile.

"Ms. Bennet," he said lowering his mouth toward Lizzie's. "I'm going to kiss you. Here, in this hallway, as your fiancé," and their lips were almost touching. "I'm going to give you your first kiss." Darcy was still smiling, his hands wrapped in Lizzie's hair, when their lips connected.


End file.
